Undefined anxiety today as I wake, probably stemming from the fact that I have written nothing of worth since I have been here. It takes time, I know, but I was not expecting a graph of progress to be this shallow. Still, these problems are self-created and of no real consequence to anyone but myself. Consider this forgotten.
But alas! Austerlitz – lost! What tragedy to lose a book within which a momentum had begun to occur. If the book was here today on this desk, in all probability, I would not have picked it up. But now it is gone, how I pine for it! The act of losing is a strange absence. I know it happened, I know through lack, but I know not where or when or how. It is a happening that has no proof, no corroboration or circumstance beyond that which says I am not here.
So to Calvino, which is a very different kind of affair, self-referential and very much a book for writers. What interesting parallels there are to be drawn between the buying of several books in one sitting. Many moons ago I wished to write books about writing, where the narrative is the main character, the pen is the plot and the book’s setting was writing itself. These days, I pine not to write books of writing, but I pine for writing itself. I long to write, something and anything beyond this whining, directionless self-published nonsense.
Last night, I made the mistake of reading old work - a mistake surely because it is within these moments of absorption that one realises that there never was any talent. Pretension and talent are inseparable when surrounded by the mountains of youth, but these days, I have given up ambitions for either. To compensate I just press the keys on the computer harder. So hard in fact that the occupant of the flat downstairs came up a few days ago to complain of the ‘earthquakes’ she was experiencing.
Anyway, enough of this. It is a sunny, beautiful day and we are riding out to the lakes after having been to our future flat and signing away the next two months. In two months I will have something to show for myself, I am determined that this time will not become a lost book, notable through absence only.